


What Ails You

by Mayphoenix



Category: Ask the Odd Family from Asgard, Thorki - Fandom, Thunderfrost - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayphoenix/pseuds/Mayphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is sick -- but gods don't get sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Ails You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the artist behind Ask the Odd Family from Asgard, who announced a few days ago that she had a stomach virus, commiserating with her and giving her a bit of hope toward getting better.

When Loki awoke sometime in the night with horrible cramping in his midsection, and then rushed to the lavatory to expel the undigested remains of his last meal, there had been some cause to worry.  As gods, he and Thor never got sick, not unless the illness had its roots in some dark sorcery.  For Loki, there existed one other possibility, one which he did not wish to entertain but which had to be ruled out. 

“I swear to you,” he growled, as he clung to the porcelain bowl in the master bathroom, “I would know if I were with-child again.  No one knows my body better than I – ahh!”  He hung his head over the toilet again and let another wave of nausea surge up through his already raw throat. 

“I trust your instincts in such matters, my love.”  Thor knelt beside Loki, gently rubbing his shoulders to comfort him as the retching passed.  He had tied back his husband’s hair after the first such bout, leaving Loki’s hands free to clutch the bowl.  Now he stood by, worried and helpless.  “All the same, you should allow Banner to examine you.”

“I am not leaving this house,” Loki spat, panting, and lifted red-rimmed eyes to glare up at the God of Thunder.  “Nor will I have anyone see me this way.  It is bad enough I have been seen at other times of weakness.”

“There is no shame in vulnerability, Brother,” Thor said gently.  He rose and plucked a face cloth from the cupboard.  He wet it in the sink designated as Loki’s, wrung out the excess, and then used the cool, damp flannel to dab at his mate’s sweaty brow.  “But I fear for you, and will not see you suffer should this be something treatable.”

“Midgardian medicine can do nothing for one such as me, Thor,” Loki reminded, momentarily allowing himself to be lulled by the tender touches, too worn out to fight. 

“Then I would go wherever I must to find a cure,” Thor avowed in a soft rumble.  He peered into Loki’s eyes.  “But first I must know the name of this enemy, in order to know how to defeat it.  Please, Brother.  Allow this.  I cannot bear to see you suffer so.  It tears at me worse than any weapon, as though Mjölnir herself had been raised to shatter my heart.”

“All right,” Loki said, cutting off Thor’s impassioned pleas.  He sank back, propped against the tiled surround of the large marble tub.  His head rocked slightly on his neck.  “I swear I shall void my belly again if I have to sit and listen to your attempts to wax poetic.”  He managed a faint smile and raised a shaky hand to cup Thor’s cheek in reassurance.  “Go, then.  Call Banner.  I shall concede to his primitive methods of determining what ails me.”  He pulled back his hand and held up a cautionary finger before his husband’s nose.  “But know that I am _not_ pregnant.”

“Although that would not be a bad thing,” Thor said.  His attempt at lightheartedness was a thin veil for his concern. 

“Were I so,” Loki replied frostily, his eyes narrowed, “I would have to find a way to divest you of your _Fertility God_ status, post-haste.”

Thor chuckled.  He caught Loki’s wrist and pressed a kiss into his normally cool, dry palm, silently noting how the conjurer’s skin felt clammy to the touch.  “I shall contact Banner, but he will come here.  While I could transport you easily to the Tower, I will not subject you to such activity when you are feeling so low.”

“You just don’t want me to vomit all over you in mid-flight,” Loki shot back.  He made to push himself up but found he lacked the strength.  Whatever this was, it was quite debilitating.  He cursed at his helplessness, only to curse again when Thor stood and swept him up into powerful arms as though he weighed nothing.  Loki slapped at the broad chest.  “Cease with your coddling!  I am no child!”

“Aye,” Thor said, ignoring Loki’s scowl, “but as I recall, I took a vow which I must uphold, _husband_.”  He carried the God of Mischief back to their bed, easing him down against the pillows.  Retrieving a wastebasket, he placed it within reach should Loki become ill again and unable to make it back to the toilet in time.  He leaned over and rested his forehead against Loki’s fevered brow.  “‘In sickness and in health,’ my love.”

Loki sighed in resignation.  “Call Banner,” he grumbled petulantly, “before I change my mind.”  He grimaced as Thor kissed his cheek before pulling away and leaving the room.  Alone, Loki rolled onto his side and hugged his stomach.  His head throbbed and his body ached, and he did not like the gurgling sensation moving through his bowels.  He felt miserable.  Worse than when the Chitauri held him in their thrall.  No, he knew his body well enough to recognize when it bore fruit, and when it lay barren.  _At least if I did carry another son or daughter of Thor, it would be familiar…but this?  This is a mystery to me._

He had drifted off, only to awaken again when he heard his name called.  His eyes opened, bleary, to behold Bruce Banner.  Loki’s throat clicked with a dry swallow as he summoned his voice.  “Hello, Doctor.”  How was it possible he felt weaker than before?  And how is it he shivered, when he possessed the blood of the frost giants?  His eyes slid shut again, and his words sounded slow and thick to his own ears.  “I think I may be dying.”

“Well, let’s just check to make sure,” Banner said, his tone light.  His touch was gentle, his words soft and comforting – what did they call it?  ‘Good bedside manner.’  He checked Loki’s pulse, looked into his eyes, and listened to his heart and lungs while telling Loki to take deep breaths.  When prompted to sit up, Loki tried only to be struck with terrible dizziness and nausea.  The wastebasket came in handy at that point.  When he finished heaving, Bruce collected some of the residue into a small vial.  “Since I’m still compiling data on Asgardian physiology, I’m going to have to take this back to the lab and analyze it.  It could be you have a virus, and then it could be that you’ve been poisoned in some way.”  He smiled and placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder.  “All I can recommend for now is rest, and stay hydrated.  I’ll have Thor monitor you for any changes.  If there _are_ any, if you start to feel worse, I want you at the Tower.”

“If his condition worsens,” Thor said from nearby, “I shall take him home to Asgard where he will be healed.”

“If my condition worsens,” Loki said weakly, “I may just ask you to crush my skull with that wretched hammer of yours and free me from my misery.  I do not think I could make such a trip to Asgard, not like this.”  The strain of speaking made him cough, and coughing only irritated his abused innards.  He curled in upon himself with a groan.

“Well,” Banner said, keeping it light, “I’ll do my best to make sure none of those things happens.”  He rose from where he perched on the edge of the mattress.  “Just rest.  We’ll figure this out.”  Gathering up his bag, he turned to Thor and gave his shoulder a brief squeeze.  Thor walked him out.  Loki just closed his eyes and wished for Hel to welcome him home.

Over the next two days, Thor stayed at Loki’s side almost exclusively, tending to his needs.  He bathed him, washing away the sickness that had sweated out through his pores.  He fed him soup and tea and toast, and was relieved when Loki’s stomach had ceased rejecting nourishment.  He kept the linens fresh on the bed, and made certain Loki knew only comfort during this period of physical distress.

The worst part about it was the children.  Because Banner had yet to determine the cause of this strange ailment, it was decided to err on the side of caution and not expose the little ones directly.  This made Loki more miserable, but Erik remedied the problem by setting up his web cam and letting their bedridden mother monitor them from a laptop in the master suite.  Loki could watch them at play in other areas of the home, could see them eat and share in dinner conversations as a virtual presence.  Of course, nothing compared to being able to hold his babies, but that just made his will to survive this even stronger. 

By the third day, Loki began to show vast improvement.  Banner announced that it was not viral and therefore non-contagious, which meant the children could come into their mother’s bedchamber and visit.  Loki felt great relief when he could gather them close, and they all hugged him, snuggled up against him in the large bed. 

Ragni seemed to be the most affected.  A perpetually happy baby, he sat on Loki’s lap and stared at him with an almost concentrated look on his round little face.  His bi-colored eyes looked _into_ Loki, as though he could see through him, and he did not like what he saw.  It didn’t frighten him, though.  After several moments, the toddler pulled himself up, placed his little hands on either side of his mother’s face, and bowed his head.  Loki, puzzled, lowered his own head to touch his son’s.  That’s when he felt it – the movement of seiðr, light and curling and soothing – and then he drew in a deep breath, startled, feeling his head and chest clear completely and a sense of rejuvenation come over him.  Loki leaned back slowly, blinked, and stared down at the child in his lap. 

Ragni’s smile returned, bright as summer sunlight, and he laughed.  “Mumma!”

Later, as Thor sat the children down to supper, Loki rose from his sickbed, showered and dressed, and felt stronger than he had in months.  He walked out to the dining area and smiled when his family looked up and beheld him with surprise and excitement.  Thor moved to his side, touched him gently.  “Are you well enough?” he asked, concerned.

“Quite well,” Loki assured.  “And with clarity of mind so that I may know the source of this…illness…that befell me.”  He looked into Thor’s eyes.  “I had been cursed.  This was the makings of a strange magic against me, an attack from a powerful sorcerer.  Someone meant to weaken me, perhaps to kill me, but whoever it was did not count on my greatest defense.”  He glanced around the table, his gaze lingering on the youngest child sitting in his high chair with one hand in his mashed potatoes.  Loki’s mouth curled at the corners, his heart full of affection and pride for his family, and dark with loathing for his enemy.

Thor smiled at him.  “Could vengeance wait until after dessert?” he asked.  “We have chocolate pudding…”

“Pudding, you say?”  Loki pursed his lips.  “Hm.  Well.  I suppose my wrath can wait a _bit_ longer.” 

Laughing, Thor kissed his cheek, and then pulled out a chair for Loki to sit in.  He leaned over his husband, briefly squeezing his shoulders.  “It is good to have you back in good health again, my love,” he murmured.

“It’s good to be back,” Loki agreed, his clever mind already at work on all the devious ways he would exact his revenge upon his attackers.  He had never felt better in all his life.  And he owed it all to the ones who loved him.

 

-fin-


End file.
